Rabbi Zari M. Weiss
3412 Cowper Street
Palo Alto, CA 94306
(650) 813-0812
Ya’akov went out from Beersheba and went toward Haran, and encountered a certain place. He had to spend the night there, for the sun had come in. Now he took one of the stones from the place and set it under his head, and lay down in that place. And he dreamt: Here, a ladder was set on the earth, its top reaching the heavens, and here: messengers of God were going up and down on it. And here: the Divine Mystery [YHWH] was standing over against him. It said: “I am The Divine Mystery, the God of Avraham your father and the God of Yitzhak. The land on which you lie I give to you and to your seed. Your seed will be like the dust of the earth; you will burst forth, to the Sea, to the east, to the north, to the Negev. All the clans of the soul will find blessing through you and through your seed! Here, I am with you, I will watch over you wherever you go and will bring you back to this soil; indeed, I will not leave you until I have done what I have spoken to you.” Ya’akov awoke from his sleep and said: “Why, there is some Divine Mystery present in this place, and I, I did not know it!” He was awestruck and said: How awe-inspiring is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven!” Ya’akov started early in the morning, he took the stone that he had set at his head and set it up as a standing-pillar and poured oil on top of it. And he called the name of the place: Bet-El [House of God]; however, Luz was the name of the city in former times. (Gn 28:10-19)
Like our ancestor Ya’akov, many of us often experience God’s mysterious presence in the ordinary events of our daily lives: simple interactions with people, unlikely sequences of events, dreams that touch our souls in profound ways. And like Ya’akov, for many of us it is only upon reflection that we realize the deeper significance of these experiences.
To sit in quiet reflection with a trusted companion, to entrust the story of one’s sacred journey to another, is a precious gift: a gift to both the narrator of the story and to the one privileged to hear it–the one who is blessed to witness the mysterious unfolding of God in another human being’s life.
For most Jews today, this intimate sharing of such sacred stories is unusual, if not foreign; it seems to have no place in most Jews’ understanding of Jewish life and Jewish practice. Jews rarely talk with other Jews about their own experiences of God; in fact, most Jews probably view their experiences with a certain degree of ambivalence and even theological distrust. Though the sacred record of our people, the Torah, tells us that our ancestors experienced God or God’s Presence in various ways–a call to go forward into unknown territory (Gn 12:1), a bush that burned but was not consumed (Ex 3:2), a pillar of smoke and a pillar of fire that traveled with the Children of Israel as they journeyed through the desert (Nm 14:14)–most Jews living in the late 20th century do not easily associate their own experiences of the Divine Mystery with those of their ancestors.
There is historic basis for such ambivalence and distrust. First, the Bible itself reveals an ambivalence about God’s visibility and accessibility. On the one hand, God is so other, so beyond human perception, that no human can see God and live (Ex 33:20), while on the other hand, God constantly transcends God’s otherness and appears to humans in any of a number of places and forms.
Second, later generations of biblical commentators–the sages and rabbis of Jewish Tradition–taught that though God had indeed appeared to previous generations of Jews, God no longer directly appeared to humans in their own day. (Max Kaddushin, The Rabbinic Mind, N.Y 1965) (based on Tosefta Sotah 13.2, Sanhedrin 11a: “When the last prophets, Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi died, the Holy Spirit–Ruach HaKodesh–ceased out of Israel.”). Some rabbis did manage to explain the mysterious experience of (to use Rudolph Otto’s term) the presence of something wholly other through the concept of the Shechina, the Indwelling Presence of God. The Shechina, according to rabbinic theology, is said to be the way that God’s otherness is transcended, making itself known or felt to humans on this earthly plane. The Shechina is present, for example, when two people sit and study Torah together (Pirkei Avot 3:3), or when three sit and execute judgement (Babylonian Talmud, Berachot 6a), or at the bedside of a person who is ill (Babylonian Talmud, Ned. 39b, 40a). Despite such thinking, however, most Jews today would be reluctant to claim that their own experiences are experiences of the Shechina, God’s Indwelling Presence.
In spite of this inherited ambivalence and theological distrust, some Jews in our generation are slowly, surely, beginning to claim and reclaim their own experiences of God’s Presence–in the ordinary as well as the extraordinary moments of our lives. A handful of Jews around the country are exploring the practice of Spiritual Direction, known until recently primarily in the Christian world.
The few Jews who are exploring and experimenting are discovering that there is much for Jews to learn from this age-old practice: much that can nourish and enrich our spiritual lives, much that can strengthen and deepen our relationship with God, much that can help to bring a profound healing to the Jewish People.
I am one of those Jews. Trained in Spiritual Direction at Mercy Center, in Burlingame, California, I have been practicing as a Spiritual Director since 1994. A committed Jew as well as an ordained rabbi, I am particularly interested in grounding this practice Jewishly: finding precedents for this type of spiritual exploration and companioning in our rich Jewish tradition, translating the terms and concepts of Spiritual Direction into Jewish idiom and metaphor. I am also interested in examining those aspects of Spiritual Direction which are challenging for Jews in general and rabbis in particular, so that we can move beyond our fears and our skepticism and better serve the neshamas, the souls of individual Jews, as well as the neshamah of the Jewish People.
For Jews, the past is as important as the present and the future. And so, finding precedent in Jewish Tradition for new practices is not only important but essential. The Judaism that we practice today must have some resemblance to the Judaism practiced by those Jews who came before us, as well as relevance and meaning for those who will come after us. So it is understandable that Jewish students and practitioners of Spiritual Direction ask at the outset: Did Jews in the past spend time reflecting upon and discerning God’s Presence in their lives? And did they then find others with whom to share their reflections in intimate, one-on-one relationships?
The Bible records no instances of such reflection, but one can only surmise that it occurred. The Bible tells us, for example, that there were 600,000 souls gathered around the base of Mt. Sinai, as the mountain quaked and smoked and the sound of a shofar grew louder and louder (Ex 19:16-25).
Though they did not perceive God directly, surely those 600,000 individuals were aware that something profound and mysterious was taking place. Wouldn’t they have reflected on the experience with others after the power of the moment had passed? In the dark of the night that followed, it is easy to imagine those who had been present whispering breathlessly to one another, trying to make sense of what had just transpired, trying to understand the significance of this mysterious event in their own life, as well as in the life of their nascent People.
That there are no records of such conversations is not unusual. The Bible leaves to our imaginations the content of the conversations that might have occurred as this motley group of individuals was making its way through the desert.
But surely such conversations occurred. Reflecting upon the significant experiences and moments in our lives is, I would argue, a universal phenomenon. Sharing the significance of these experiences is a human phenomenon.
Perhaps it was a recognition of the impulse to reflect and share that one early teacher, Rabbi Joshua ben Perachaya, had in mind when he taught: “Provide yourself a teacher, get yourself a companion, and judge all people favorably.” (Pirke Avot 1:6). Rebbes or teachers of the Hassidic tradition, which began in the late 18th Century, suggested that Rabbi Perachayah meant that one should find a companion in religious and spiritual matters. “It is an important arrangement to make for your spiritual life, that you find a close religious friend, so that you can always take counsel with him on how to do the work of God in the right way,” cites one collection of Hassidic teachings (Derech Hayim, 2-90), and another, taken from the Hanhagot of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero instructs: “Join with one of our comrades to discuss matters of the service of God every day. Discuss with this friend every Erev Shabbat [the eve of the Sabbath] what you did that past week, and after this go to receive the Sabbath Queen.” (The Hanhagot of Rabbi Moshe Cordovero, #14 and #15, in YhvT, p. 11, quoted in Jewish Spiritual Practices, by Yitzchak Buxbaum). And finally, another relates: “The Holy Jew [Rabbi Yaakov Yitzhak of Pshischa] had a friend. . . .They were bound together with cords of love and would get together every week on a fixed day, and would talk about Torah and high matters (Ha-Hozeh mi-Lublin, p. 75).” Though these “high matters” are not defined, one can guess that they refer to events and experiences which made Rabbi Yitzchak and his friend feel more in touch with the Divine Mystery which transcends the purely earthly plane.
Despite teachings such as these, most contemporary Jews still feel timid about discussing the events of their week from a spiritual perspective, or reflecting with a trusted companion on other high matters. After all, how could we possibly find the right words and language to describe such experiences? And even if we could, how could we know for certain that our experiences truly were moments of encounter with or revelation from God? And, beyond the extraordinary moments of revelation, is God truly at work (or play) in an on-going way in the life of each of us today? Or, to put it in other terms: For the Jew, is the relationship with God a personal one, or is that relationship mediated through the life of the Jewish People?
These are challenging questions for Jews, as we begin to explore and experiment with the rich insights offered through the practice of Spiritual Direction.
For those who have begun to explore and experiment, however, the rewards have been great.
Most of my directees begin their work longing for a richer, more meaningful Jewish spiritual life and practice, but not knowing quite how or where to begin. Most have never really thought about how God is or has been present in their lives; such a question was simply not a part of the equation in their earlier Jewish experience. Some proclaim that they don’t believe in God, at least not the concept of the God with which they were raised. But when I ask the question, “Where is God/The Holy present in your life now?” the answers flow more freely. God is present in the sense of trust that is growing inside, telling them that “everything will be okay.” They and I both know that “okay” is a state of mind, an acceptance of Life and all of the consequences of living and dying. God is also present in the unfolding of their lives, at each and every turn. Over time, God becomes a living reality, not merely a projection left over from childhood memories of Bible stories. It is with this new understanding of God that they are able to enter into a meaningful and sustaining relationship.
And so slowly, gently, as we begin to explore the possibilities for opening more fully to God’s presence in their lives, something begins to shift. There is a softening, an opening, the beginning of a kind of inner peace. There is a relaxing, a letting go to the Divine Mystery that is at work in the universe, a Mystery that is beyond our human understanding. For the Jews with whom I work, this is the beginning of true faith: a faith that is based not on lofty liturgical proclamations but rather, on the real inner experience of God’s presence in their lives.
Finally, as I help them to keep their faith and awareness of God’s presence alive in ways and forms that are Jewish, a healing occurs that is of such a profound nature. They begin to return to the tradition and heritage which is so precious to them for reasons they don’t fully understand. The journey home touches something so central, it resonates so deeply with who they are as Jews. The process of exploration and spiritual companionship provides a missing piece to the puzzle of their Jewish experience and being. God is no longer simply a theoretical figure portrayed in biblical stories or lauded in liturgy; God is at last a real and guiding Presence in their lives.
As a Director deeply committed to Jewish Tradition, there are many more questions with which I struggle: Is there a particular way to offer Spiritual Direction from a Jewish perspective? Does the (Jewish) Director have an obligation to connect a Jewish directee to Jewish Tradition: to mitzvot/deeds, to concepts of God that resonate with those from previous periods of Jewish history? Are there boundaries of belief, or is it acceptable for a Jewishly-committed Director simply to be a midwife to the soul, companioning the soul wherever or however it is emerging (even if the direction it is emerging is characteristically “un-Jewish”)?
The answers to these questions are not clear cut, or readily available. For the handful of us who are engaged in the holy work of companioning other Jews on their spiritual journeys, this is new territory; we are all learning as we go along. There is much work yet to be done to find answers that both ring with intellectual and spiritual integrity and at the same time help Jews move farther along in their, in our, individual and communal spiritual quests. One thing, however, that most of us engaged in this work deeply know: there is much that individual Jews as well as the Jewish People as a whole have to gain from the riches offered through the practice of Spiritual Direction.
May the Divine Mystery be a Source of strength and inspiration in our efforts.
Va’y’hi noam adonai eloheinu aleynu, u’ma’seh yadeynu, ko’n’na aleynu, u’ma’asey yadeynu ko’n’neynu.
May the pleasant ways of the Eternal our God be upon us;
may God establish the work of our hands for us;
may the work of our hands establish God.
(Psalms 90:17)
Rabbi Zari Weiss was ordained from the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in May 1991. She served for two years as the rabbi of a Reform congregation in Virginia, and then for five years with a Jewish Renewal congregation in Berkeley, California. Rabbi Weiss received her training in Spiritual Direction from Mercy Center in Burlingame, California, and has been practicing Spiritual Direction since 1994. In August of 1998 she began a private practice in Spiritual Direction, and founded the Jewish Spiritual Development and Growth Center, in an effort to bring the riches and wisdom of Spiritual Direction to the Jewish community. She also currently serves as the Community Rabbi of the Greater East Bay, a position sponsored by the Jewish Federation, Jewish Family and Children’s Service, and the East Bay Council of Rabbis.
Buxbaum, Yitzhak, Jewish Spiritual Practices. Northvale, New Jersey, London: Jason Aronson Inc. 1994.
Montefiore, C.G., and Loewe, H., A Rabbinic Anthology, Schocken Books, 1974.
Schechter, Solomon, Aspects of Rabbinic Theology: Major Concepts of the Talmud. New York: Schocken Books, 1975.
Please Note: the Biblical quotations in this manuscript are not based upon the NRSV translation.